


Cold Hands, Warm Heart

by MakingPoetry



Series: White Out [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-TWS, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, they're both Winter Soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2206251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakingPoetry/pseuds/MakingPoetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a few weeks since they had been brought to Avengers Tower. They were still 'recovering', they each had their own therapist, but progress was slow. They had shed their old mantles, the former fist and shield of Hydra. They were just Steve and Bucky now, two broken soldiers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Hands, Warm Heart

It had been a few weeks since they had been brought to Avengers Tower. They were still 'recovering', they each had their own therapist, but progress was slow. They had shed their old mantles, the former fist and shield of Hydra. They were just Steve and Bucky now, two broken soldiers. On the plus side, both of their injuries were healing well, Steve's leg and Bucky's arm where they had shot each other. It seemed like a long time ago now, when Bucky had failed his final mission and bailed. Steve had been sent after him to eliminate him. Neither of them was supposed to have survived, but they had. Sometimes, Bucky wasn't so sure if that was a good thing or not; maybe the world would have been better off without them. Steve was supposed to be some kind of hero, and so was Bucky, but all he could remember was taking lives or ruining them.

The others were still wary of them, but really, who could blame them. Tony still had a black eye from earlier in the week, when he'd unintentionally spooked Bucky in the kitchen and Bucky had responded by punching him in the face. Though Bucky felt at least a little guilty for it, he held firm to the belief that Tony had deserved it for everything that had happened over the weeks that they knew each other, all of the times that he got on Bucky's nerves. Clint had a ring of dark purple bruises around his neck from sparring with Bucky, when Bucky's understanding of 'tapping out' had still been somewhat shaky. Afterwards, Clint had regretted being the first one to spar with him, and refused to do so again in the future until Bucky learned to pull his punches. Then there was Thor, who likely should have an imprint of Bucky's boot on his chest, if he actually didn't. He was _strange_. Not in a bad way, just the sort of way that meant that Bucky couldn't quite figure him out.

Bruce and Natasha were the only ones who remained unharmed, for the most part. Bruce because he had been the one who found them, who had brought them to the Avengers, and because, after Bucky had gotten over the fact that he was a doctor of sorts, he was easy to get along with. He was kind and gentle, the sort of person who was genuinely _nice_ simply for the sake of it. Neither of them had ever really met someone like that before, and at the same time that it was strange it was also comforting. Natasha was different than the others; she was more like them, the former assassins of Hydra. It was easier to talk to her about some things, when things became difficult, when he started to doubt himself all over again or when the memories of what he had done became overwhelming. She listened to what he had to say, and she didn't judge him for it. When he was so wrapped up in things that he started speaking Russian instead of English, she understood him, and he thought he liked it better that way, a conversation for only the two of them, or three if Steve was there.

Bucky slept on the floor more than he did in the bed, in his room that he had been given. It was too large, both the room and the bed. He wasn't used to having so much space, to having things that were _his_. At night, when he went to sleep, he dragged the blankets from the bed onto the floor, pressed back into the corner so that he had something solid behind him. Come morning, he returned the sheets to the bed so that no one would ever know. When he was asked how he was adjusting to life in the tower, how he liked his room, he would reply in as little words as possible, saying that everything was fine.

~-------~

Sometimes he didn't sleep alone though. Sometimes, after he was curled up on the floor, the door to his room would open. The first time it had happened, he had been wary and uncertain, but when it kept happening, he got used to it. Tonight, when the door opened and Steve slipped inside before closing it silently behind him, Bucky wasn't even surprised. He hadn't even been fully asleep, and when Steve approached, Bucky threw back the edge of the covers, letting Steve know that he was welcome. Steve dropped down onto his hands and knees, lying down next to Bucky, back to his chest, and Bucky draped the blanket over the both of them.

"Nightmare?" Bucky asked as he slid closer, pressing against Steve and wrapping an arm around him, protective without even understanding why yet. It just felt _right_ , like that was what he was supposed to do.

Wordlessly, Steve nodded.

Bucky didn't press for more information; he knew better than that. Whenever the dreams or the memories got too overwhelming, Steve always ended up here. The first time, he had been ashamed; Bucky had seen it plain as day on his face. He'd never kicked Steve out or denied him staying the night in his room, though. Steve always left before the sun was up, before the others were awake so that no one would see him. He didn't have to do that, Bucky wouldn't have cared if the others knew; what the two of them did was their own business and there was nothing to be ashamed of.

He slept better when Steve was there, too, though he didn't admit it. It was strangely nice to not be alone, to be curled around another body, real and warm and _safe_. He pressed his forehead against the back of Steve's shoulder, breathing in his scent. If Steve didn't come into his room, Bucky would never have the nerve to go to his when his own nightmares woke him up. It felt vulnerable, somehow, when Steve seemed to trust him and rely on him in some ways. He wanted to continue being strong for Steve, not seem weak.

~-------~

In the morning, they ate breakfast together, going as far as dragging two chairs around the table so that they were both essentially sitting in the corner. Bucky would rather be shoulder to shoulder with Steve than risk Stark sidling up to him. Though he didn't think that Tony was too eager to do that, not after what Bucky had done to his face. The mark was still there, fading but visible. All of Bucky's encounters with the others meant that he was generally left alone in the morning-and usually Steve was too. Not because he had ever hurt any of the others, but because he didn't talk too much. Bucky was trying to work on that. _He_ didn't mind that Steve didn't talk much, because he could generally figure out what was going on with Steve at any given time, but the others seemed to prefer actual words.

At some point or another, Bucky became aware that someone was standing in front of him, but he didn't look up from eating his cereal until Clint cleared his throat. Arching an eyebrow, Bucky finally looked up, though he didn't bother asking Clint what he wanted. He figured that would come soon enough in time.

"Do you mind?" Clint gestured to the chair that Bucky currently had his feet up on.

Bucky looked down to the chair, back up at Clint, and then over to where Natasha was sitting. She wasn't looking at either of them, but he didn't believe for a moment that she wasn't paying attention. Personally, he wasn't sure what to make of Clint, but Natasha seemed to like him, and Bucky supposed that was good enough for him. Sighing, he moved his feet from the chair and sat up a little straighter so that he wasn't slouched down. "It's all yours."

"Thanks."

Bucky watched Clint pull the chair over to where Natasha was before returning his attention to his cereal. Beside him, Steve had said nothing, as was usual for him, and Bucky glanced over at him for a moment before shifting a little closer so that his shoulder was touching Steve's. Steve seemed startled at first, turning his head to stare at Bucky, but he pretended not to notice. After a moment, Steve relaxed, leaning against him the slightest bit. Bucky didn't know _why_ , but it made him happy to have the small bit of contact. It felt _right_.

~-------~

It was their first actual mission out in the field, a test run, of sorts, to see if they were ready for it. They were kept far away from anything that had to do with Hydra, and Natasha and Clint were with them, to keep them on track and make sure that nothing happened except what was supposed to. Everything was routine and going as expected, right up until when Steve did the most stupid thing that Bucky had, to date, seen him do.

They had just rounded a corner in the maze of hallways, leading together, and were faced with a soldier armed with the experimental energy weapon that they had seen the specs for back in another room. The man fired just as Bucky was leveling his own weapon, but before he could either be hit or pull the trigger, Steve shoved him out of the way. Bucky staggered, shoulder slamming into the wall even as Steve was hit, and he could only hope that the metallic sound he heard was the shot hitting Steve's shield. Either way, the force of it sent Steve flying back into the wall and another shot, which Bucky was forced to dodge, brought the ceiling down on top of him.

Bucky wasn't supposed to go for kill shots, he was supposed to incapacitate unless there was no other choice, but he raised his gun and shot the man in the head. This felt like a _no other choice_ situation to him. There was one last, wild shot as the man fell, this one tearing a hole in the wall and pelting Bucky with bits of debris, but that was the least of his concerns.

Holstering his weapon, he began to dig through the rubble that covered Steve, flinging the smaller pieces out of the way and shoving the heavier ones with his metal arm. His breath stuck in his throat when he finally reached the bottom of the pile. There was Steve, curled up under his shield, covered in dust and dirt, but seeming unharmed when he peeked out around the edge. He was alright, and Bucky was relieved, without even having realized that he was _worried_ in the first place. Grabbing Steve under the arm, he hauled him out of the rubble and pushed him across the hall, where the floor was clear.

"Don't you _ever_ do something like that again," Bucky snapped, shoving Steve against the wall and holding him there with a hand on his chest.

"But-"

"Not for me. I'm not worth it." Steve had to care more about his own well-being instead of someone else's. Bucky had done things worse than he had; there were better people that Steve could risk his life for than him.

Steve's brow furrowed as he frowned. "But you are." He sounded a bit hesitant about it now though, maybe because Bucky currently still had him pinned against the wall. "You're good to me. You don't think I'm a failure. You-"

Bucky stopped him right there with his mouth against Steve's, though if he was asked, he wouldn't be able to explain why he had acted on the impulse or where it had even come from to start with. Steve stiffened in confusion, making a soft sound in the back of his throat, and Bucky immediately pulled away, worried that he had gone too far. Steve wasn't _looking_ at him in the sort of way that said he had, rather with open mouthed surprise, like he couldn't understand why anyone would want to do that. Maybe he should apologize, maybe Steve was just too hesitant to tell him that he hadn't liked that, but when Bucky started to, Steve kissed him, silencing not only what he'd been about to say, but his doubts. Maybe neither of them understood exactly what this feeling was, but they both wanted it, and as a start it was good enough.

When Bucky pulled back for the second time, he realized that Natasha was watching them. He hadn't even known she was there, hadn't known how _long_ she had been there. He straightened up, stepping back from Steve, and fixed her with a steady look, _challenging_ , prepared if she had anything to say about what she had just seen. 

She didn't say a word about it.

"Did you find it?"

Bucky nodded, gesturing around the bend in the hall. "The threat has been neutralized."

"Good work." Natasha stepped around the rubble, and then, at Bucky's questioning look, paused for a moment to add, "I already knew. It's obvious with the way you two look at each other." She addressed Steve this time when she continued, "And you're not as subtle as you think you are when you sneak into his room."

Bucky shot a look in Steve's direction and found that his face was flushed pink. "We just sleep," Steve said.

"I know." Natasha smiled. "It's alright."

Steve looked over, realized that Bucky was still watching him, and cleared his throat as he pushed himself away from the wall. "Let's get this wrapped up."

~-------~

That night, as Bucky lie on the floor with his back to the wall, he didn't expect Steve to show up. While he was grateful that Natasha had been so understanding about the matter, he wasn't sure how Steve felt about things, if Steve thought that maybe Bucky had been honestly angry with him and not just worried. He wasn't sure if he should apologize, or _how_ to apologize in the first place. But then the door was opening quietly and Steve was poking his head in, like he wasn't sure if he was welcome or not.

Bucky didn't say a word, just pulled back the edge of the blanket and waited for Steve to join him. Steve appeared relieved, and closed the door behind himself before curling up on the floor next to Bucky. That was the thing; he was _always_ welcome.


End file.
